I hold my breath, drop to my knees and pull the rag out of the bucket.
“Just do it,” I mumble and start scrubbing. I begin with the walls and floor, leaving the center of disgustingness for last. I have to make the rag as dirty as I possibly can. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.
By the time I’ve finished the wall of urinals, the water is murky with filth…and I have the perfect weapon.
I still have the showers to go, but I can’t wait any longer.
Trey has nearly finished clearing up the locker room. It looks neat and tidy. All it needs is a good clean.
Perfect.
Pulling the rag out of the water, I don’t bother ringing it out and hurl my weapon at the back of his head.
It hits him with a wet squelch, then gets caught on the back of his T-shirt.
I snicker.
His shoulders bunch and he goes still.
“I’ve finished the urinals.” I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.
Pulling the sopping rag off his neck, he spins back slowly. His eyes are stormy with disbelief, his lips tight with rage.
All I can do is smile and raise my eyebrows at him the way every guy in this school seems to do. It’s like they’re given a standard issue smirk and eyebrow raise upon entering the school. “Since you’re so set on picking up the dirty laundry, could you put that rag in there for me too? Thanks.”
His upper lip curls, his growl low and rumbling as he fires the rag back. I raise my arm and the disgusting cloth slaps me in the elbow. Snatching it off the floor, I dunk it in germ water again and toss it across the room.
He ducks out of the way and it slaps into the locker behind him, but not before spraying his cheek. His face bunches with disgust and he grabs the rag again, charging with a yell and throwing it straight for my face. I bash it away. It hits the wall and flops into the urinal.
I give it a dubious glare and then decide, what the hell, I’ve just cleaned it.
Pulling it out, I go to throw it again.
“Don’t you dare.” He raises his finger at me.
I pull my arm back and he rushes forward, tackling me off my feet and hauling me over his shoulder.
I squeal, sounding way too much like a girl. Pounding his back with the rag, I grunt, trying to think what a guy would sound like in this situation.
Trey hauls me into the shower, dumping me on the floor and turning it on full blast. The freezing water hits me and I gasp in shock.
“Shit, that’s cold!” I yell.
He’s laughing at me, enjoying my torture, so I do the only thing I can.
Lurching forward, I grab his ankle and pull. He slips forward, slapping his hand on the cold tiles as he gets covered with water.
“Ah!” he screams, arching his back to get away from the spray.
I start laughing at his girlish cry, closing my eyes and tipping my head back. It’s a weird kind of release. I can’t remember the last time I laughed or what it felt like, that unbidden, uncontrollable emotion.
Trey curses as he fumbles to turn the water off. It slows to a trickle and he slumps to the ground beside me.
“You tell anyone I scream like that and I’m gonna kick your ass.” He’s trying to be tough but his look is desperate, pleading.
I shrug and shake my head. “You’re talking to Wonder Boy, the most pathetic thing at this school. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
He smiles at my derogatory comment and nudges me with his elbow. “You’re not all bad. At least your throw’s half decent.”
I grin. “I can’t tell you how satisfying that was.”
His snicker is soft and humble. “I guess I kind of deserved it.”
“You gonna help me clean the showers now?”
He tips his head back against the tiles and winces. “You’ll spend the rest of the time trying to make me pay if I don’t say yes, right?”
“Pretty much.”
With a reluctant sigh, he gets to his feet and reaches down to help me up. “Okay, fine. I’ll let you win this one.”
I grip his hand and love how easily he can pull me up.
Our eyes lock for a moment. My hand is still in his. Small, protected. I don’t want to let go. His tongue skims his lower lip and my eyes are drawn to the fullness of it, then the strength of his chin. I want to draw lines on his face, navigate the structure. I want to taste him.
Trey blinks and jerks away from me, dropping my hand and clearing his throat.
“Better get to it.” He nods.
“Yep,” I fire back, heading to my bucket.
I can’t breathe properly. The air is suddenly hot. Suffocating.
My hoodie is saturated and I’m pulling down the zipper when I remember that I can’t. I zip it back up to my chin, clutching the strings and swallowing. Wet shirts cling to bodies. I may be strapped around the chest but I’m still a girl—thin waist, wider hips.
Trey’s a smart guy. What if he notices?
I empty the foul water down the drain. My hands are trembling.
So what if he did notice? Would it really be so bad if he knew the truth?
My eyes bulge.
Yes! Yes it would!